


Then I Fall

by solitariusvirtus



Series: Uncanny Westeros (Otherworlds) [34]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 17:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20820860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: It surprised her beyond belief that her husband should be reluctant even vehemently opposed to the outcome proposed by his lords. She saw fit to reconsider her earlier assessment as Rhaegar demanded her compliance in the one matter in which she had decided not to indulge him in. “I cannot.” He stared her with incredulity. Good a man as he was, he could hardly afford to be her shield forever. And since she hadn’t the immeasurable strength to endure on her own, she must find another way of retaliation. “They are my gods; you knew when you wedded me. Why should you now ask me to change to suit your whims?”AU! Cast into the tug of war of men more powerful than her, Lyanna learns that a faint heart never wins one true victory.





	Then I Fall

_She felt the pressure on her limb increase with her brother’s desperation. Lyanna opened heavy eyes, doing her best to move her lips into a soothing smile; she feared she only managed a grimace. “I should like to hold him once more.” She would miss the best moments; his first steps, his first words, a great many firsts thereafter. The least she could do was pour into him what remained of her warmth, so the imprint of it might blanket him throughout his life, even if the memory of her love faded._

_Ned aided her, as best he could, keeping her arms about the babe, careful of the mite’s head. She glanced into her child’s sleeping face and wondered that he could slumber, yet was mightily glad at the same time. “I want you to tell him someday; when he is grown. Do not dare leave him in the dark his whole life.”_

_“When the time is right,” Ned agreed, his voice cracking ever so slightly. She did not know how much longer she could hold on.” I wish it had turned out differently.” She wished she had wedded Rhaegar with something other than indifference. There would have been no war then. Her eyes closed and she drifted, hold on her babe turning slack. Struck by deafening silence, she felt herself being swept away._

* * *

_Rhaegar shivered with the cold. The low mist intermingled with the fog of his breath, obscuring the rising walls of Dragonstone from sight even more. The chill in his bones turned biting, rolling along the length of his limb, with cruel precision stabbing at the soft insides trapped beneath a protective shell. At the very least the storm of the previous night had melted away and would not keep them from land anymore. Pinning the murky form of his former seat with a steady gaze, Rhaegar willed the vessel to greater speed and the miles between him and his objective, well those he willed to the Stranger. Gripping the wooden edge beneath his palm tightly, he straightened._

_“I know that look.” He turned at the sound of Arthur’s voice. “It does not bode well to be forever planning one scheme or another.” His friend shot him a knowing glance, settling alongside him. “Have you naught to say?”_

_“Other than I wish to the gods I’d have strung the bastard from the first sturdy branch in our path?” A nod of understanding met his words. “She is not his to worry over and he had no right to hold the knowledge from me.” He sighed heavily._

_“He might see the matter differently; in a way, she will always be his. It is not an easy thing for a brother to let go of, but in the end, Brandon put the needs of the realm before anything else.” It would have been a great deal harder to obtain his victory if he were in a rush to return to Dragonstone, Rhaegar was not fool enough to deny as much. “Chastise him if you must, all the same.”_

_Looking down at his hands, Rhaegar considered his words with care. One should not speak what one did not mean. “If I find the keep empty of her, he will learn what it is to cross me.” He had wanted the throne, he always had, for as long as he could recall. But he would have been equally content to wait out his sire. He might well have had done so had the mad fool not threatened to bestow his wife to another. He would not be put into such a position, for all it had been a cleverly plotted bit of mischief._

_Having excused himself soon after his sire’s insinuations, Rhaegar had promptly returned to Dragonstone and stripped his young bride of the last of her maidenly gifts, the one thing he had waited to take after he’d had her by the law of both men and gods. He’d lingered as long as he could by her then; a jaded mind might well have conjured a definite reason for those actions, but in truth, he’d been much too drunk off of her then to plan anything beyond the best way to engage her attentions. Lyanna, sweet as she’d ever been, had accepted it with only a touch of surprise and the endearing willingness of hers from the first._

_“The Stranger does not make allowances for out preferences.” It was a sobering reminder he did not need. Anger sharpened once more into something full of blackness. The thorny mass writhed within him, leaving him both uneasy and energised. Arthur clapped a hand upon his shoulder, the brotherly gesture one of both comfort and understanding._

_No matter, Rhaegar considered, as he returned his gaze to the keep in the distance; the Stranger might not be beholden to him in any such manner, but Brandon Stark was, and he had deliberately kept the truth of his wife’s state from him. That he was not at all like to forget. _

* * *

_Her smile was the same. A load dropped off his shoulders at that smile. She clung to her brother’s arm, leaning against him rather heavily, much to his worry. The sallow colour of her skin and the gauntness of her cheeks made it clear that she had suffered unduly. Somehow, she left the safety of from her sibling behind and her slow, purposeful steps gave him some hope that she had not been, in fact, broken by her experience._

_It was easy to walk towards her, even easier to reach out for her and the easiest thing of all to anchor her to him. She, likewise, held onto him, welcoming her return with a few soft words. Rusty though her voice might be, it was most heartening to hear her use it. Having grown with a mother more often than not recovering from her latest experience in the birthing chamber or from a miscarriage, he was well aware that his wife should have recovered before long. If she was in such a state moon turns after she’d given birth, he shuddered to think of how she’d been in those first hours._

_Placing a kiss to the top of her head, he wordlessly led her to leaning into his side, the dark grey of her skirts blending into the black of his cloak. The weight of her pressing infinitesimally against his frame burned itself into his skin and deeper still. “Come, the winds blow harshly.” He led her forth, meeting the intense stare of her middle brother. These Stark men, Rhaegar thought to himself with a touch of annoyance at what he saw in the other’s gaze, could stand to be taken to task a time or two for overstepping boundaries. For the moment, however, he wished to see his wife comfortable and meet his son. _

* * *

_"When the light shines just so, he has his sire’s eyes.” Her arms full, she stared at him expectantly. The babe stared with interest at him, presumably as a result of the novelty. ‘Twas a dark gaze, flat of colour and somewhat hazy. “I thought,” she trailed off, “that is to say, I was hoping we might,” and yet again she left the nature of her wish obscure._

_He held his arms out for the child and she passed the burden onto him. His weight, much like his mother’s bore itself in significance rather than aught else. “Why did you not write me?” Gently, as much as he could be in any event, he rocked the babe. Her lips parted, but all that came out was her tongue for a brief moment during which to glide over her lower lip. Might be he would not like he answer._

_“I instructed my brother to do so.” Rhaegar made a noncommittal sound, eyeing his son as the boy grabbed hold of a bit of cloth, tugging with all his might. “I can only suppose the raven lost its way.” The sound of her footfalls drawing closer grabbed his attention, though he did not shift his gaze from the bundle in his arms. One of her hands was upon his arm, stroking gently. “But I am much relieved we’ve no need of missives. There are some matters one cannot convey in writing.”_

_“Such as?” Her other hand had gently crossed the distance to their son’s cheek, her touch tentative. She took the babe from his hold and placed him back in his cradle, to which the boy had little enough of a response beside locking his attention onto a pair of carved birds suspended by a couple of strings._

_Promptly returned, she held out her hand. He gave his willingly. Lyanna held it to her heart, the pressure she exerted offset by the feel of her lips to his knuckles. “Such as this.” She let go, only to wrap her arms around him. He returned her embrace._

* * *

_Arthur kept his position against the wall, a look of interest plastered upon his face. “You are saying she was poisoned.” It was not so much a question on his friend’s part, as it was an observation underlined by some incredulity. _

_“I am saying there is no other explanation for what I have witnessed.” The maester was entirely too calm. Rhaegar could not say he enjoyed it overly much, except that the man had managed to snatch his wife from the Stranger’s grasp and that was reason enough not to run him through. For the time. “I have been very careful in administering draughts to Her Grace so as to strengthen her after, but recovery is a slow journey. And I cannot be certain how much damage has been done to her.”_

_“Any one person you suspect, maester?”_

* * *

The tome leaned heavily upon her knees, the press both painful and relieving. Her eyes, drawn to the furious reds of a Lannister cloak, fixated upon the golden lion climbing the cloth. Lord Tywin seemed just as surprised by her presence as she was of his. Not that the man showed it for more than a moment. He brushed past her, giving but a small inclination of the head instead of the more proper and customary bow that was her due. Or was not as the case might be. Her eyes fell back to her lap. One shaky breath later, she was on her feet, composure thoroughly threatened.

Cersei Lannister was a great beauty with a considerable dowry. Her father had naturally come to push her suitability before the King, considering the Queen possessed quite the absence of such a trait. And it was not as though she had particularly sought to endear herself to her husband to begin with. Lyanna could well guess her fate. And if not Cersei Lannister, then certainly the lovely Ashara Dayne. Or even the infinitely fragile, but equally clever Dornish Princess whom Lady Ashara kept the company of. Might be the cheerful younger daughter of Lord Tully.

In truth, the remote North had only ever managed to get her on the throne because the Mad King had thought them too far away to be of speedy aid. And while that was certainly the case, her father had painstakingly worked on his alliances with the Riverlands and the Vale, which had provided more than enough support until the arrival of the Northmen. At that time, heavy with child, Lyanna had endured the news of war as best she could on her isolated little rock, well safe behind the walls of Dragonstone.

But those days were gone. The high walls of the Red Keep pressed in on her. She missed the bleakness of dark grey stone and coiling gargoyles, just as she had in the beginning missed the vast expanse of the Northern plains blanketed by newly fallen snow. The rosy tint of cleverly put together brick teased her with its garish unfamiliarity. Too refined lines swept past her, following a predictable path, not at all like the twists and turns of the home of her heart. Even the waves crashing against the cliffs sang an altogether different tune from the mournful and enigmatic melody which had lulled her to sleep for longer than half a decade.

Having reached the safety of her chambers, Lyanna dashed within, not at all surprised to see her ladies whispering amongst themselves. They, as well as everyone else, were fully aware of the precarious position their Queen held. It came not as a shock then that they left her to her own devices more and more often, with little enough insistence from her, even as before they’d have clung to her skirts and done their best to amuse her. These days they were more concerned with the King‘s choice of a new bride and sought to befriend the ladies of those women, in hopes of making a spot for themselves in the future. Seeing the wisdom of their move, Lyanna left them to it.

* * *

“It might serve us better to comply.” She knew the moment the words were past her lips that her brother would simply dismiss that path with nary a thought. “Clearly the King shall not budge upon the issue. And even if he so wished to let the matter pass, the council shall not.” She wished she might say her power over her husband would be enough to sway the man to their side, but she had neither the means, nor the opportunity to make even an attempt. And if she ever managed it, she was rather certain it should end in tears for her.

“You shan’t bow to the whims of any one man as long as I am around.” But she did have to. She had a husband to answer to and Brandon had put her at odds with the man in a way only he could. “And certainly you will not abandon the old gods because the Lannisters wish it of you. Or is it that you want to be trampled on?” Not she; yet all the same, if she was to stand before the realm, to rely on her husband’s charity was unthinkable, as much as returning to her childhood home would be unacceptable. “What is that look upon your face?”

“The matter is not as simple as you make it out to be, brother. Do you think I wish to be at the Lion’s mercy? But the tide has turned against us and for the life of me I cannot see a way out of it that does not involve playing into his scheme. If we oppose him now, we do so at our own risk. I beg you, think the matter through.”

She wished it were her lord father that sat her husband’s council. A pity the man could no longer make the journey. A pity her brother’s wolf’s blood boiled with unfettered rage. He might have understood the delicate position she found herself in and he might have been a better judge of her husband’s character. Alas, it was not to be and she had yet to understand what it was her own heart wanted most.

* * *

It surprised her beyond belief that her husband should be reluctant even vehemently opposed to the outcome proposed by his lords. She saw fit to reconsider her earlier assessment as Rhaegar demanded her compliance in the one matter in which she had decided not to indulge him in. “I cannot.” He stared her with incredulity. Good a man as he was, he could hardly afford to be her shield forever. And since she hadn’t the immeasurable strength to endure on her own, she must find another way of retaliation. “They are my gods; you knew when you wedded me. Why should you now ask me to change to suit your whims?” 

* * *

“What would you have me say?” The question came from somewhere deep within. Her husband, whose eyes had previously been glued to a piece if parchment, gave her a chilling look. “Since the decision has been made, my lords,” she addressed the rest of the men sitting the Small Council, “I should not wish to prove unduly difficult.” Her brother jumped from his seat at her words, his protest ringing in the chamber.

The King held one hand up. “Leave us.” His lords were clearly not pleased, with the notable exception of her brother. But they complied. Leaning back in his seat, her lord and master held up the same piece of parchment he had been studying so intently. “What is this?”

“I was asked for my reasoning in declining participation in such celebrations as the ones observed by the Faith. It is my reply; given in writing, as requested.” She blinked at the fury she saw glinting in his eyes and she drew backwards. “It was my understanding that my input was needed on the matter.”

He rose from his seat, walking towards her with a sure step. Once more, she attempted to increase his distance between them. He would not allow it of her and that only managed to see them both standing before the fire burning in the hearth. A small squeak fell past her lips as all distance between him vanished. The acrid smell of burning paper filled her nostrils as she was lifted off the ground. 

Held aloft, she looked questioningly into his eyes. He explained, for her husband was in a charitable mood, it would seem. “What are you afraid of? I thought you would fight a great deal harder than you have.”

“Not all battles are won by the swing of a sword.” She was frightened by the step she was to take. He glowered at her. “And certainly not this one. It would be best to accept the situation for what it is.” For the moment, in any event. She needed yet more time.

“It would certainly be more expedient if we simply swung the sword.” She could not deny as much. Wiggling into his grasp, Lyanna breathed in slowly. “One good reason, lady wife.”

“I have no reason other than my inkling.” Had Brandon not wielded his tongue as he oft did and swung wild accusations as he even more often did, she might not have needed to so blatantly pick sides. “You may put me down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, a bit of a funny story: this started out as a very different story and I had various ideas, of course, but in the end I went with this because it seemed feasible, more so than the other ideas. :P


End file.
